Lorelai Gilmore’s Analysis of the Modern Booty Cal
by Robinpoppins
Summary: LL, set early season 4 Staring at his hands in the diner one day, Lorelai Gilmore gets the itch. Now, only he can scratch it. Will a few harmless nights turn into something she has never wanted more?
1. Prologue: The Letter

**Lorelai Gilmore's Analysis of the Modern Booty Call**

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**Summery: LL, set early season 4; Staring at his hands in the diner one day, Lorelai Gilmore gets the itch. Now, only he can scratch it. Will a few harmless nights turn into something she has never wanted more?**

**Creative Liberties: Luke and Nicole's divorce is actually finalized in the beginning...this little detail will be important later on.**

**Disclaimer: I got a fever and the prescription is more cowbell-er-fic writing...And, yes, it is not mine. None of it. Not even the cowbell. **

**A/N: OMG, It's Robin! And, OMG she is starting another story! Yes, she does realize that she still has some, _ahem_, unfinished business (I know, Lolabelle and LLfreak, SW2EHWOAC! I'm awful. I'm horrible. I'm not worthy. I'm distracted eas-...ooo, is that a quarter?). She is also very uncomfortable speaking about herself in the third person, so will be stopping now...****Hi friends! Here's a story I have been excited about for a looong time and its finally on paper, kinda. It skews a bit dirtier than I normally dare to go, so writing it is challenging. But, it is also a very fun story and I hope you enjoy it. I think its funny, but, yeah, that could be saying alot. This first chapter is a prologue and meant to set some things up. **

**Ok, Crickee, let's get this show on the road. Cue the lights. Curtain up. Aaaaand...ACTION! (wow, this A/N is actually short for me. Hmmm)**

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**Prologue: The Letter**

Dragonfly Inn

2472 W Sores and Boils Alley

Stars Hollow, CT 06586

November 14, 2006

Dear Cosmo,

I'm not exactly sure how you start a letter like this. I mean, "to whom is may concern," seems a little too formal for a magazine that has an interview with "Hollywood It-Girl" Katherine Heigl on one page, and "10 Ways to Make Your Man Scream," on the next. Plus, someone has to be reading these. I guess I could say "Dear Betty," to personalize it a bit, but then your name might be Jane, or Sally, or Bill (just because its Cosmo, doesn't mean there isn't a man working in your mailroom) and you say, "who the hell is Betty?" and toss this before even reading it. So, I'm just going to stick with "Dear Cosmo."

Would you look at that? Six sentences in and I have yet to get to the matter at hand. Gotta be a new record. So, yeah, point? I do have one somewhere.

My name is Lorelai…not sure why I feel the need to introduce myself here, when you can just read my signature at the end, but well, what's done is done. So, hi Betty/ Jane/Sally/Bill/unisex mailroom worker, I'm Lorelai. Long-time reader, first-time letter writer (hard to believe huh?). I just read your article, "To Screw or Not to Screw: The Truth About Booty Calls," in one of your older magazines. Couldn't tell you how old because I never throw anything away and the dog chewed off the date (thank you, Paul Anka...my dog, not the singer), but I do know Faith Hill is on the cover. Oh, and she's wearing a blue dress.

My God, I'm still rambling. I swear, I am a professional capable of writing professional letters. See the letterhead?

This is just going to sound a little weird, considering that I am commenting on an old article about booty calls. I read the article, agreed with the article for the most part, but had one point of contention. And, I'm not the type of person who would normally write a letter in response to an article. In fact, I normally make fun of the people who feel the need to comment on an article…but, yeah, completely beside the point. See, to refresh your memory a bit, the article focused on the gritty truth about booty calls. Why you may want to participate in one. Why it may be a bad idea. Comments (mostly negative) from readers who had been through the whole thing. An interview with a psychiatrist who specializes in sexual behavior. A list of "dos and don'ts." A quiz to see if you are the type of person who could handle a booty call. Schlemeel, schlemazel, the whole shebang. The whole collection was pretty impressive, actually, but there was one perspective that was completely ignored by the article.

That perspective is mine.

You see, I consider myself to be a modern women, but I was never too keen on the idea of having just a sexual relationship with someone. I was a single mom, and I certainly wasn't one without particular, shall we say, _urges_. I dated. I did the whole casual relationship thing. I did the relationship thing. I did the engaged thing, once. I even did the "get back together with your ex, even though the all the forces of the universe will eventually tear you apart" thing (and, as a good friend once told me, it's tough when the universe is against you). But, something always rubbed me the wrong way about having a purely sexual relationship with a man. I just could not see how you could separate sex from some sort of emotion or intense connection. How can you be so detached? It seemed so cold to me.

Then, there came a time in my life when I was 35 years old, single with absolutely no prospects, in the middle of building my up my very own business and my daughter had just moved away to college (Go ahead. You can do the math. I'm used to it.). I was lonely, and sad, and just a little bit desperate. And, I got the _urge _to do something...Anything! But, I just was not ready to be in another _relationship_ relationship.

I see you shaking your head, Betty/Jane/Sally/Bill/mailroom worker of unspecified gender. You are wondering how my story is any different than all the other women who contribute. Yes, I fell for this guy (I know, I know. That could be seen as a big mistake), and yes the relationship wasn't without its major emotional turmoil. But, unlike the bitter, unhappy, unsatisfied women of the article, it turned into something so much more than a few meaningless romps. Through it all, we, this man and I found a way and everything just…worked out somehow. I'm not quite sure I can explain it, even if I tried. Call it fate, written in the stars, yadda yadda yadda.

I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So, throughout this whole experience, I made this list. I guess you could call them rules we came up with during this part of our relationship. I found this list the other day, and thought, "hey, this might be helpful to someone. I certainly don't need it anymore." Attached is my list, rules, tips…whatever you want to call them. Not sure why I'm actually sending them to you (in fact, I'm not even sure why I am even writing this letter, but I put too much effort into it to back down now), but everything seemed to click when I read the article and found the list pressed in between the pages of a summer read I never finished. I just felt like it was something I supposed to do. Some of them may sound pretty redundant, like that Seinfeld episode where Jerry and Elaine come up with their own sexual relationship rules. "Staying the night is _optional_…" etc. Some are pretty specific to this guy and I (I added notes to help explain why I jotted this note down. Nobody likes inside jokes, right?). As for the title, "Lorelai Gilmore's Analysis of the Modern Booty Call…" eh, it's a work in progress. Do with it what you will.

Enjoy!

Lorelai Gilmore

PS: My man sends his heartfelt appreciation for "10 Ways to Make Your Man Scream."

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**A/N: Oh, you know you are intrigued. And, in order to gauge just how intrigued you really are, I need you to review. Please. How'd you like the letter? Do you think I captured Lorelai's voice? Or, are you so disgusted by how untrue it is that you can't even talk to me right now. Please, please, please let me know either way.**

**Posting this prologue is an experiment on my part. I didn't want to post anything until I finished the entire story so I won't end up in the situation I usually find myself in. But, I kinda want to see what the response is to the prologue so I can see if the entire story is worth pursuing. I have the whole thing planned out and parts written, but its up to you if I continue from here. No pressure or anything. **

**Shall I continue? Here's what may be coming up in the next chapter if you do not hate me and decide that this story is worth pursuing (that means reviewing, folks. I can't read minds...yet...): _Chapter 1- The Itch: _Lorelai gets her first _urge._**


	2. Chapter 1: The Itch

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack. If you happened to stumble upon my author profile in recent months (if you didn't, I don't blame you, you all have lives), you would've noticed that I put all my stories on a little hiatus. Sorry guys, it had to be done. Between my schoolwork load, my graduate school applications, and my involvement in Gilmore Girls Virtual Season 8, there was literally no time. But, things are starting to wind down for me, and I worked really hard to get this chapter up and running for everyone. I hope that interest is still there for this story, because it has become my baby. And, once again, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to finish this chapter. I've seriously been working on it for months. I really want to thank you all for your reviews and support so far. The initial response was really overwhelming and I would thank you all individually, but that's a lot of space to take up and I'm sure you're all itching to dig in. So, thank you, and you, and you, and you over there, and you, and you too. You know who you are and your great reviews didn't fall on deaf ears. Okay, I'm getting schmoopy. Moving on...**

**A couple quick clarifications, because I've gotten questions: This story is set in early S4. I didn't have a timeline before, but I do now. It's after The Fundamental Things Apply and before An Affair to Remember. Sound good? Also, I think I said this in the prologue, but I'm taking a creative liberties by having Luke and Nicole's divorce finalized early on. This will become important later on, especially in the next chapter. That's it, I think. **

**One more thing (before this becomes my shortest A/N ever), a few quick shout-outs: First, I officially dedicate this chapter to Filo, for several reasons. 1. She's awesome. 2. She's always around to play hangman at TWoP with me. 3. She pushed me to finish this and I couldn't have done it without her help. 4. She read this draft and actually liked it. 5. Her baby is adorable. 6. She was a fantastic sounding board and gave me a lot of great ideas, including one that became my favorite part of this chapter. 7. She gave me a deadline and made me stick to it, because it was exactly what I needed. **

**Also, big hugs to LLFreak for gently reminding me that I have a story here that needs telling. I love that you always kick my butt into gear. Thanks to Lolabelle for being Lolabelle. I haven't talked to you in ages and I miss you. I expect a long review/PM soon. Thanks to Jen Burch for reading the earliest draft of this chapter, and I miss you too!**

**Ok, it's time to get on with the show!**

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**Chapter 1: The Itch**

October 16, 2003

There were certain things in life that Lorelai was just able to predict. She supposed, and adamantly insisted to a doubting Rory, that perhaps she was a little psychic. Not like Miss Cleo psychic, or kid from the _Sixth Sense _psychic, or John Edwards psychic. She didn't have flashes of future events. She didn't see dead people. She didn't have a "spidey sense." She couldn't read tarot cards or interpret tea leaves. She certainly couldn't tell you the winning lottery numbers or which horse to bet on at the races (but, if you asked her, any horse that had "glue," "slow," or "unlucky" in the name was not a sure thing). But, once in awhile, she could guess where the wheel would land on _Wheel of Fortune_, or what movie would bomb in the box office, or what shirt Kirk would wear that day, or how long (to the day) Miss Patty's newest fling would last, or what tired excuse Luke would use to prevent her from partaking in the elixir of life that morning. Silly as it may be, Lorelai felt that this gave her a bit of an edge on life. The ability to say "a ha!" to destiny. Shake her fist at it. Scream, "take that!" Do a little dance. Get down tonight. Wang Chung. You know, that sort of thing.

But, there are certain things that even a slightly psychic person could not see coming.

For instance, Luke had nice hands. Like really, really nice hands. Hands that could alter the course of her life in an instant.

Nope, no way in hell did she ever consider that this would happen.

When she walked into the diner that morning, her spine did not tingle in anticipation of something new. The wind did not change directions, and subsequently, she did not see Mary Poppins floating into town. Nor did she have the sudden urge to fly a kite with Dick van Dyke. If she had any psychic premonition (not that her power worked like that), she may have just attributed it to autumn and the colorful leaves that adorned the ground, and the dull chill that now hung in the air.

But, the fact of the matter was today was the day that she first noticed that Luke had nice hands. And, today was the day that she no longer relied on her "power."

Lorelai noticed the whole "nice hands" thing off-handedly (no pun intended) one day as she sat in the diner, sipping cup after cup of glorious caffeinated goodness. On the days that she wasn't pouring over the finances for the new inn, or meeting on site with Tom, or meeting with decorators (preferably ones that had no previous experience working for her mother), or gardeners, or the suppliers, or Sookie, or Michel, or observing progress at the Dragonfly, or sneaking up behind the construction workers with the nail gun, or spending time with her kid, she was at Luke's. Usually, she came prepared with tall piles of decorating magazines and wallpaper swatches and her laptop and spent hours working.

Lorelai was technically unemployed. She had no office to speak of. The chic, business-savvy nomad, as she described herself once to Rory over the phone. Working from home had never been an option. Lorelai knew herself well and if there was one thing to be said about her thought process, it was wrought with distraction. And the distraction only intensified when she was at home. The simple task of picking colors for the library turned into a hellish ADD ordeal:

_What about green for the walls? Like jade green, not kelly green. That would be pretty. Very aesthetically pleasing. Calm. Serene. Etc, etc, etc. Man, I love The King and I… I look damn good in green. I wonder if that green dress I liked is still at Nordstroms. Maybe if I skimp for a couple weeks, I can afford it. Crap, I need to pick up my dry cleaning. It's been three weeks. But, coffee first. Mmmm, coffee. "I like coffee/ I like tea/ I like the java cup and it likes me." That reminds me, must burn that Rilo Kiley CD from Lane. How is Lane doing at Seventh Day Adventist college? Must ask for update at Luke's tonight. Wonder how Mrs. Kim is doing. Ooo, that end table at Kim's Antiques next to the porcelain clown that gives Kirk nightmares would look fabulous in the lobby. Wonder how much I could haggle that price down. Hmm, you know, Kirk has never worked at Kim's Antiques. Or Luke's. Note to self: have Gypsy change oil in Jeep. Which reminds me, what about taupe in the lobby? Or light blue? Eh, maybe a butter color instead. Like that yellow skirt on Liv Tyler on the cover of InStyle.. I love that skirt. I wonder where it's from. I wonder if have 500 lying around in a coat pocket somewhere to spend on it. Do I even look good in yellow? Tangerine is a funny word. I feel like eating a tangerine now. Or a mallomar. Hmm, I'm hungry. And, suddenly in the mood to watch High Society. What's with the musical mood lately? Bing gave Grace a boat. Nobody is named Bing anymore. I wonder how they get ships into bottles. I need to go to the video store if I want to watch High Society. Not sure where my video card is. When was the last time I rotated the tires on the Jeep? Note to self: have Gypsy do that too. Ew, can I afford to do that? Maybe I should get the red dress that was next to the green dress at Nordies too. I look damn good in red. Know what's unfortunate? Emily looks good in red too. My leg is falling asleep. Mmmm, Steven Tyler… "Hey, J-j-j-jaded." That's it! Now I'm really hungry! You know, not sure I'm liking green in the library anymore… Ooo, Ellen's on! _

Needless to say, two days spent in vain trying to adapt to working at home ended up to be fruitless and she was way too flighty to get anything done.

Lorelai had tried other places too. Sookie's. Rory's dorm. The Stars Hollow Library. Starbucks. The gazebo. During one pathetic attempt to do some serious number crunching, she had even snuck into her parents' house to use her father's study. However, that only resulted in nearly giving the maid and herself a heart attack.

Nothing had the right vibe. They were either too quiet, or there was too much food around, or too much of Terrance the life coach, or it was a particularly blustery day. And, once again, Lorelai was distracted.

So, one day, Lorelai had stumbled into Luke's for breakfast, and since she was there, and since she did have her laptop and a couple of decorating magazines handy, she decided to give the diner a shot. She commandeered two tables in the corner, spread out her work, and shooed Kirk away with three bucks and a plea to go to Taylor's Soda Shoppe. Despite Luke's backhanded slams at her work ethic, she had actually gotten a lot of work done. So much, in fact, that she came back the next day, and the day after that. Luke's had suddenly become the office for the technically unemployed, chic, business-savvy nomad.

Oh yes, it's today. We should probably talk about that. Today is the day with events that Lorelai, even with her smidgen of psychic ability, never expected.

As a man exited the diner and held the door open for her, she had no idea how this day might affect her in so many ways. In fact, the only thing that was on her mind was the giant pile of books stacked high in her arms.

"Luke!" she cried as she managed to maneuver her heft over to her usual table, "Gah! Heavy! Lucas, I need pancakes and I need them stat." The books landed with a plop onto the table and its legs wobbled in protest. Lorelai hoisted her purse and computer bag next to the tall pile and began to organize her workspace.

"You will not believe the morning I had… By the way, the pancakes need to be extra warm, extra fluffy, extra…chocolaty. Yes, that sounds good; I think I want chocolate chip pancakes… Anyway, so first, the alarm didn't go off, which could be because I threw it across the room when I couldn't find the snooze button, but that's completely beside the point. Then, I get woken up by Tom, who, I must add, is not the ideal person to wake up to, calling to say that construction is going to be delayed a week because of some stupid inspection. Now, I'm going to have to call around to see if I can get the inspector to come some time this weekend, yet another thing I must jot down on my to-do list. Then, my shower was absolutely frigid. I think there's something wrong with my hot water heater, which reminds me, can you come over and look at it later? Oh, and maybe fix my alarm clock too, if you don't mind. So then, I go downstairs to have my pre-breakfast snack, and my fridge is completely empty. No leftover take-out, no frozen tater tots. There isn't even a tub of butter that I might consider eating if I was that desperate. Which means I have to add grocery shopping to my to-do list from hell, along with a meeting with Tom, the phone calls, laundry, and a meeting with the bank about our loan. Ugh, and I didn't even mention the message I received from my mother this morning when I conveniently chose to not to answer the phone. If you thought my shower was cold, it was Fiji compared to Emily in the morning talking to a machine... So, yeah, if you could hustle up with the pancakes and some coffee, I would be eter-"

Lorelai stopped mid-sentence as she looked up from her table. Although she was now completely satisfied with the arrangement of her work supplies, she immediately frowned when she discovered that she had not been telling her morning tale to Luke, but to Kirk, Gypsy, Reverend Skinner, and a few other dining patrons, including an older couple who stared at her with mouths agape like she was eleven feet tall and had suddenly sprouted a beard. _Tourists_, she muttered to herself.

Luke was nowhere to be found.

"…Aaaand, I have no idea why I bothered to say all that when you aren't even in the room to hear it," Lorelai said more to herself then to the select people who continued to stare at her.

"I heard," Kirk stated sympathetically.

"Thanks Kirk," she said with a smile, as she sunk into her chair.

"He's in the kitchen, if that's any consolation," Gypsy informed from the counter.

"Well, I guess that means a repeat performance of 'Lorelai's Morning' when he gets in here, if you all are up for it."

"I think you should expand on your mother's phone call the second time around," suggested Reverend Skinner.

"Yeah?"

"It gives your story extra oomph," said Gypsy.

"Maybe I should repeat the entire phone message, complete with my classic Emily impression.'

"I need to hear a sample of that before I can fairly determine if it's right for your story," Kirk requested, with a mouth full of French toast. Lorelai presented the diner with a few renditions of "If you wear a shirt like that to dinner one more time..."

"Tone down the accent a bit," piped in one of the diner patrons from across the room. "I personally thought it was a little much."

"Critics," Lorelai heard Gypsy mutter under her breath.

'Okay, so tone down the Emily accent and emphasize the message. Got it, got it…um, what else did I tell him about my morning?"

"The fridge was empty," supplied Kirk.

"A guy named Tom called and woke you up," said the critical diner from before.

"Hell's to-do list, or something like that," Gypsy mentioned, then caught sight of Reverend Skinner a few tables over, "Sorry Reverend."

"Ooo, and my alarm clock! Can't forget the alarm clock," Lorelai said with her fingers out as the people in the diner helped her list her morning escapades.

"No need for a repeat performance," Luke stated as he walked in from the kitchen with a plate in each hand, "I caught the act the first time around."

"But, there were going to be impressions this time," Lorelai whined and Kirk nodded his head as if to reinforce this point. Luke dropped off the plates to the rightful owners and headed over to the coffee maker.

"I'll let you reenact it with your silverware when I go back to the kitchen to make your pancakes."

"You won't get to hear it though."

"I can hear you just fine from the kitchen, trust me."

"Alright, but you better not skimp on the chocolate chips and whipped cream, mister."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Luke said dryly as he delivered a mug filled to the brim with delicious coffee in front of her.

"No lecture," she asked with a grin as she brought the coffee mug to her lips.

"Think of it as good vibes for your fork and spoon show."

"Meaning the lecture is still to come?"

"Meaning I'm busy enough today to humor you for once. Enjoy it while you can."

"_Dirty_," Lorelai stated breathily.

"Jeez," groaned Luke with his patented eye roll. With that, he turned his back to Lorelai and headed back into the kitchen. Lorelai picked up her knife and spoon and studied them intently.

"Hello boys. Which one of you wants to play me?"

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About a half hour later, Lorelai, with Kirk's assistance, had decided that the knife would be best suited to represent Emily ("Because she would probably use a butter knife to cut your beating heart out," Lorelai reasoned, "The duller the better. And then she'll hold the beating heart up and laugh maniacally, like that guy on that one Indiana Jones movie."). The salt shaker became her shower, and the napkin holder made a pretty good refrigerator. After much debate, it was decided that the sugar dispenser would be Tom ("Because it's sweet and roly poly, just like Tom." And white!" Kirk added thoughtfully.). Lorelai chose the spoon for herself. She had created hair out of torn napkin and straw wrappers, and fashioned clothes out of Sweet 'n Low and Equal packets. Unsanitary? Most likely, but she did have Luke's permission, however facetious.

So, not only had she gotten absolutely no work done, there was also no sign of her pancakes. Or Luke, for that matter. And, playing with her silverware was just not enough to distract her from severe hunger pangs.

"Is he still in there?" she asked Gypsy, who had a better view of the kitchen from her counter seat.

"Yep."

"What is he doing?"

"Cooking," Gypsy said dryly.

"Is he cooking my pancakes?" Lorelai asked, stretching her neck out, hoping to get a glimpse of Luke's kitchen activities from her seat.

"Doesn't look like it."

"Damn him!" she exclaimed, now out of her seat and standing next to Gypsy. She began to send Luke menacing glares, hoping to get her message across telekinetically. Or was it telepathically? She always got those confused. Stupid Jean Grey for having both powers.

Unfortunately for Lorelai, Luke's complete concentration appeared to be on the bowl in his hand as he stirred its contents vigorously "Sure, he can hear me talking about my morning, but he can't hear us talking about him now."

"I think it's called selective hearing, honey," said an old woman behind Lorelai, "Herbert's done it for years." The woman reached out and patted Herbert's hand affectionately.

"What?" croaked Herbert. He, however, was ignored by both his wife and the rest of the diner, who were now all watching Luke through the little opening.

"Where the hell is Caesar? He cooks! He does the cooking for Luke!" Lorelai was now officially grumpy. This was so going into her silverware show. Maybe the fork should play Luke.

"I haven't seen Caesar all morning, and I've been here since 6," remarked Kirk.

"I'm so hungry," Lorelai groaned. Luke was adding ingredients to the bowl, seemingly unaware of all the attention he was receiving.

"I need to pay my bill," said Reverend Skinner. "The Rabbi and I are beginning our 'Learning About Our Jewish and Christian Neighbors' study today, if anyone would like to stop by." The diners immediately began muttering excuses to the Reverend. Lorelai caught a few strains of, "…root canal…" and "…starting a new job today…" (that was from Kirk), before chiming in with her own lame excuse of "work." Used to this response, Reverend Skinner showed no indication of disappointment and everyone returned their attention to Luke and whatever he was stirring.

Lorelai plopped onto the stool next to Gypsy. "Lu-uke," she called out to him in a sing-song voice. "People are wait-ing."

Without even looking up, Luke held up one finger. "Just a minute," he gruffed impatiently.

"I might have enough change to just leave it on the counter," Reverend Skinner explained, rooting around in his pocket for dollar bills.

"Nonsense, Reverend. Luke has a diner full of people and as the proprietor, the least he can do is serve us," Lorelai huffed.

"Here, here," cried a diner behind her, lifting his mug in a toast.

"Especially since _someone _has been waiting for her _pancakes_ for almost 45 _minutes_!" she said loudly. Luke gave her no indication that he even heard her. She looked at Gypsy and rolled her eyes.

The entire diner was silent as they waited for Luke's response. A few seconds went by. One man coughed. Kirk sniffed loudly. Nothing. Lorelai started drumming her fingers on the table. _Need to get Luke's attention. How can I get Luke to notice me? _

Lorelai spotted a plate with a half-eaten bagel to her left, and inspiration hit. She shot a wicked smile to Gypsy, and the mechanic nodded in almost freakish understanding as Lorelai ripped the bagel in half and handed it to her. _Hmm, maybe Gypsy is slightly psychic too._

"What are you doing?" Kirk hissed in horror as he watched the women tear their bagel halves into smaller pieces.

"Shut up, Kirk," said Gypsy.

Lorelai took the first shot, and watched as her bagel piece flew into the kitchen and landed somewhere in the opposite direction of Luke. _Damn._ Gypsy's aim was not much better than Lorelai's, since her first bagel bit hit the wall and didn't even make it past the window frame.

"What?" Gypsy questioned as Lorelai looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You never asked if my aim was any good."

They took turns tossing their remaining bread pieces into the kitchen, but neither of them came close to hitting the distracted diner owner. After their ammo was exhausted, Lorelai frantically searched the counter for something else to throw. She picked up the fork from Gypsy's plate and shrugged.

"Probably not a good idea, huh?" she asked. Gypsy shook her head.

"Excuse me, ladies," Reverend Skinner said as he squeezed between them, muffin stump in hand. "Allow me."

Lorelai gasped and grinned widely. "Muffin stump! Why didn't we think of that?"

"Yeah," added Gypsy. "No one ever eats the stumps."

They watched the Reverend mentally calculate the distance as he aimed the muffin stump. With a flick of the wrist, the stump effortlessly sailed into the kitchen and hit Luke between the shoulders with a loud thump.

"Nice shot!" Gypsy cheered quietly.

Luke whipped around and directed his angry gaze at Lorelai, Gypsy, and the Reverend. "Lorelai!" he admonished.

Immediately, Lorelai and Gypsy pointed their guilty fingers at the Reverend, passing on the blame.

"So much for solidarity," the Reverend muttered under his breath.

"Sorry, Reverend," Lorelai and Gypsy whispered in unison.

"What the hell is all over my floor?" Luke asked, as he set down the bowl on the counter and took in the bagel debris.

Ever the helpful one, Kirk piped up with, "bagel!"

Everyone glared at him.

"It was Lorelai's idea," Kirk squeaked.

_That's it, Kirk's a goner. _She winced, bracing herself for the rant to come from the generally irritable diner men. He wouldn't refuse to make her pancakes now, would he? _Oh God_, she her thoughts turning panicked.

"Lorelai-" Luke began with a sigh, but she was not ready to let those pancakes go.

"No, Luke, wait," she interrupted, mentally preparing herself for battle. "I'm sorry about the bagels, and I'm sorry that I let Reverend Skinner hit you with the muffin stump, and I'm sorry that Gypsy couldn't hit you with a bagel even if you had giant target strapped to your back-"

"Hey," stated Gypsy defensively.

"But I am a desperate woman," Lorelai continued, taking a deep breath. "I'm hungry and I only had two cups of coffee this morning, which, I know you would say is enough for any normal person, but I need more than two cups. And I _need_ pancakes-"

"Lore-" Luke attempted to butt in, but she was undeterred.

"No, let me finish. Now, I know you're a busy guy, and you seem to have your hands full this morning, but we are paying customers."

"Yeah!" yelled Kirk, thrusting his fist up in the air.

"You aren't always a paying customer," Luke muttered under his breath.

"Hey, I was considering paying today," she clarified. "And, if you were speedy with the pancakes, I would've left you a generous tip."

Luke snorted.

"And even if I didn't pay, which I was totally intending on doing, I have a tab."

"She has a tab?" Kirk asked, eyes wide with shock. "I don't have a tab."

"Can we just get to the point?" one impatient man from behind Lorelai inquired.

"Okay, point?" Lorelai said, looking up as she tried to collect her thoughts, "I know I had one…"

Reverend Skinner looked at his watch.

"Oh, right," stated quickly. "Look, if I promise to clean up the mess in the kitchen, can we maybe skip the angry rant about throwing things in the diner? You can help us all by passing out our checks and then everyone can be on their merry way."

"I wasn't going to yell at you," Luke finally said. "Although, I do think I've made myself pretty clear about throwing stuff in the diner, and no, being hit in the head with a muffin stump is not covered by my insurance. And, yes, you are cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. That goes without saying."

"Drat!" Lorelai cursed quietly.

"I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind running the cash register for a bit. I'm a little short-handed today, and you've done it before, so I thought that maybe you wouldn't mind helping me out."

"Oh, okay, really?" she asked, a little taken aback.

"Only if you don't mind," Luke said, putting his bowl down on the counter in front of him.

"No, no, I don't mind," she said as she jumped up from the stool. "I can go behind the counter?"

"Well, it's easier that way," Luke deadpanned.

"Right, okay, Reverend, hand over that bill." Lorelai took her place behind the register and studied the bill the Reverend had passed over to her. "Okay, if I remember correctly, I press 'S' and then this little star-looking button and…" The register began to ding, as if an alarm had been set off, and Lorelai frantically pushed buttons to make it stop. "1-5-star-7….nope….Uh, 7-S-X-6-star…1-2-3-4….Worth a shot, I guess…Um, S-T…Wait, there's no O or P. I can spell 'stop'…Ugh, no, that wasn't it either…Luke! I made it angry!"

"Press 'X' and then 'S' and the amount and then 'T' and 'E,'" Luke yelled over the persistent bell.

"Right, got it," she responded, and pressed the appropriate buttons. "I didn't even know it could do that." The machine stopped dinging and Lorelai smiled at the Reverend. The register dinged again, only this time, the cash drawer opened. "Hey, looks like ThunderCats are go!"

Money was exchanged and the Reverend bid everyone farewell as he walked out the door. Feeling quite proud of herself for resolving the cash register issue with a level head (Jack Bauer had nothing on her now), Lorelai grabbed an apron from under the counter. "Alrighty, who's next?"

Everyone in the diner raised a hand.

"Great," she mumbled. "Um, line up, I guess."

* * *

She made her way to the back room twenty minutes later, having successfully cleared the diner of everyone except for Kirk (his new job at Al's didn't begin until after lunch). On her way to the kitchen, she picked up a broom and a dust pan from the store room. Luke was spreading flour on a cutting board when she walked in and she paused in the doorway.

To this day, Lorelai doesn't know why she didn't say anything to him when she first walked in. She cannot recollect why she simply stood in the doorway, just out of his peripheral vision, and watched him. She didn't say hello, or grumble about having to sweep the floor, or ask him what he was making. Maybe her intention was to see how long it took him to notice her, or sneak in behind him to tap him on the shoulder to give him a good scare. Whatever the reason, it was not obvious to her at the moment. So, Lorelai leaned against the doorframe, broom in one hand, dust bin in the other, and she stared.

And, as she learned later, maybe there was something to her mother's lectures about staring at people, because staring could get you into all kinds of trouble. But, we wouldn't want to get ahead of ourselves here. Lorelai stared, you got the picture.

Luke picked up a mound of dough from the bowl he was holding earlier and dropped it onto the cutting board with a thump. With the ease that comes with years of cooking, he pressed the heels of both hands into the dough and began to carefully knead. She became mesmerized the movements of Luke's hands as they folded and pushed the dough around the board. There was a pattern to his kneading that Lorelai caught on to after awhile. First, he would press hard into the dough, letting his hands make deep depressions into the mound. His long fingers would fold back sections of the dough, while his heels continued to press deeply into it. Occasionally, he would pick up the mound and turn it, letting it fall back down and hit the board with a loud thwack.

_Huh_, she thought to herself. _Luke has nice hands. Big palms, long fingers. His knuckles don't look weird. And you know what they say about big hands…_

_Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Where the hell did that come from? _But once the thought entered her mind, she couldn't erase it. Try as she might to think of kittens, or Bono, or the Cuban Missile Crisis, or anything that didn't relate to Luke and his hands and what he was doing with his hands and what big hands usually entailed, she was ultimately unsuccessful. And that's when she realized that she had stopped looking at his hands and was actually staring at his ass.

She jerked her head up quickly and almost hit her head on the doorframe. She blinked, attempting to clear her head. Her gaze returned to his hands. It was almost sensual, she realized and it wasn't until her face felt unnaturally warm that she knew that she was blushing.

_Blushing? Why am I blushing? _Lorelai shifted the broom to her other hand and touched her cheek. _It's just Luke. But, _the other side of her brain countered, _it's Luke with big hands. God, I feel dirty. _That wasn't exactly her fault was it? She wasn't the one basically molesting a piece of dough. The blush spread to her neck, and she ducked her head in an attempt to cover it.

She closed her eyes, wondering if there was some sort of mental self-destruction button in her brain that could be pushed at a moment like this. But, as it turned out, closing her eyes was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Words floated around in her mind and began to form mental pictures and now, in her head, Luke wasn't kneading the dough. He was kneading her.

She could almost feel his hands on her back and the sensation caused her to inhale sharply. His fingers expertly worked out knots in her shoulders, pressing and folding the skin tenderly. The hair on her neck stood on end as she felt him press his lips just under her earlobe. _God…_

Did she mention that he was naked in this vision? Yeah, that part she couldn't help.

"Jeez!" Luke yelped as he turned around and spotted her in the doorway. Lorelai's eyes shot open and she dropped the broom.

"Shit!" she nearly screamed, as the sound of the broom hitting the tile reverberated off the walls. "Don't do that!"

Luke put a flour-covered hand to his chest. "Me? You were the one who was just standing there, not saying anything."

"Well, uh, you could've at least, you know, given me a head's up or something," she managed to sputter, unsure of how she was able to say anything at the moment.

"Yeah, because when I'm scared out of my mind, the first thing I think is, 'Hmm, how can I make this whole experience easier on the person freaking me out.'"

Lorelai bent down and picked up the broom, still unable to fully look Luke in the eye. _Gah, this is humiliating. Not that Luke can read my mind or anything, but still!_

"Next time, at least let me know you're in the room."

"Okay, yeah, sure," Lorelai said distractedly, as she began to sweep the floor with long strokes. But, with every swish of the broom, a new image came into her head. Luke's fingers woven into her hair. Luke's hands massaging her breasts. Luke's lips sucking on the tender skin of her neck. Luke's body pressed against her as he…

"Thanks for covering for me today," Luke said, pulling her out of steamy mindset. She nearly lost hold of the broom again, but managed to catch the handle just in time. "Caesar called in sick," he explained, "and Lane isn't supposed to come in until later this afternoon. I was really in a jam."

"Yeah, no problem." _Yes, keep your answers short and to the point. Can't let him catch on to what you're thinking. _

The dirtier the thoughts got, the harder she pressed the broom into the floor. It was as if a switch had been flipped in her head and her normally jumbled thoughts had transformed into extreme single-mindedness. She just needed to keep sweeping. That was the solution. If she kept sweeping, her hands stayed busy and she wouldn't be putting any of the irrational thoughts into action. Because, that's just what they were. Irrational.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked. She managed to tear her eyes away from her task to find that Luke was staring at her. She suddenly noticed she had been sweeping the same spot for the last couple of minutes.

"Oh me? I'm fine. Just fine. Or, you know maybe I'm better than fine. I'm ultra-fine. I'm fine with a capital 'F.' I'm fine squared. I'm fine-"

Luke held up his hand to stop her. "I get the picture."

"Oh, well, you know. I just wanted to make sure that you knew I was fine because that's what I am. I'm fine…Is it really hot in here?" Lorelai brought a hand to her forehead and discovered she was sweating. _Shit, shit, shitty, shit. _

"It's not hot, but you look flushed. Are you feeling alright?" He looked concerned, and she felt horrible. She felt worse when she became aware that she had been staring at his crotch the entire time. Lorelai jerked her head up.

"Um, do you think I could just finish this up later? I just have an e-mail I need to send out to, uh, my, um, Tom. I have to send an e-mail to Tom about the inn."

"Tom e-mails?" Luke asked, a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Oh yeah," she babbled. "He's on the up-and-up with all that techie stuff. You can IM him if you don't believe me. He's usually around."

"I believe you," Luke said with a small chuckle.

"Right, of course you do. Well, I'm just going to, uh," she pointed behind her in an attempt to clarify. "You know, work."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Luke asked again, reaching out to touch her arm. If she hadn't been clenching her hands together, Lorelai wasn't sure what she would've done.

"Yeah, of course, I'm fi-"

"Fine, I know. I got the message."

"Ha, well, I am," Lorelai stated, suddenly wondering if she could fit her entire fist in her mouth. _Seems like the only thing that's going to shut me up at this point. _

As soon as she was out of sight, Lorelai dropped her head in her hands.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Tap, tap, tap, tap went the sound of her finger hitting the delete key. Lorelai had been attempting to write an e-mail to her former linen supplier at the Independence to see if he would be interested in carrying over his business to the Dragonfly. It wasn't working. Her fingers couldn't hit the right keys, resulting in her typing the wrong words (and when she said wrong, she really meant _wrong_). "Need" became "knead," "this" became "kiss," "thirty" became "dirty," and you really don't want to know what "towels" became. It wasn't pretty.

Shutting her laptop and pushing it to the other side of the table, Lorelai put her head down on the cool Formica. Oh this was bad. This was really, really, really bad. How could she possibly having these kinds of thoughts about Luke. Luke! Of all people. She saw him every day. She was using his diner as a freakin' office, for crying out loud!

_Oy vey. _

She heard a plate being set down, but she didn't move. It was better this way. She couldn't control herself.

"Pancakes, on the house," Luke said.

He put a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered. _Focus, Lorelai, focus. _

"You know," he said quietly, and she knew that he was close to her. "If you aren't feeling well, you should just go home. Get some sleep. You work too hard sometimes." He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

This is the point in the story where Lorelai came completely unglued.

She sat up so fast that right hand knocked over the plate of pancakes and a couple of decorator magazines. She pushed her chair back and Luke ran into another table in order to get his toes away from the legs of her chair.

"I have to go!" she exclaimed, her voice pronouncing the words with panicked syllables. "I just…I, uh, I really need to go."

"Okay," Luke said, his brow creased with worry. "Do you need me to-"

"No!" she yelled, and clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loud it came out. "I mean, no, you don't need do anything. I'm just late. Meeting with Sookie and Michel."

Lorelai stood up, and without giving Luke another glance, walked briskly to the door.

"Lorelai," he called out.

"No time," she said with her back to him. "I'm really late."

"You forgot your stuff."

She spun around quickly and spotted her purse, laptop, and books, still sitting in the places that she originally set them in. Trying not to look at Luke, she marched back over to the table and slung her purse over her shoulder. Lorelai tucked her laptop under her arm and stared hard at the books, not remembering how she got them to the diner in the first place.

"You know, can I just leave the rest of this stuff here for a little bit? I really am in a hurry."

"Uh, sure," Luke said uncertainly.

"Thanks. Sorry about the mess." She gestured to the floor. "I'll, uh, make it up to you somehow." If she had a free hand, she would've smacked herself on the forehead for her choice of words. "I'll just see you later," she said quickly.

On the other side of the door was sweet freedom. Once she crossed the threshold, she would be out of Awkward Land and into the Town Square of Serenity. But, as she turned the knob and attempted to push the door open, it wouldn't budge. She leaned into the door more. It still wouldn't open. Panicked, she pressed her entire weight against it, violently jiggling the knob. It was jammed. It had to be. _Shish-kabob, that's just my luck._

"Pull, Lorelai," Luke finally spoke up. She finally turned her head to look at him. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Right," she said. Lorelai turned the knob again and pulled. The door opened easily. "Heh, that would've been a good Far Side joke, huh?"

Luke nodded. "Probably."

She smiled at him, and stepped out the door. Unfortunately, she misjudged the distance of the step and fell on to the sidewalk below. The contents of her purse scattered all over the ground, but thankfully, her arms still clutched her laptop tightly. She signed.

The cement was harder than Lorelai remembered it to be.

* * *

**A/N: So, what did you think? I'm dying to know. So far, I like how this story is playing out, but that's just me. Sometimes, things are funny to me and they aren't funny to anyone else. Sometimes, things make sense in my head and they don't make sense to anyone else. This is where you come in. Let me know if stuff wasn't funny or didn't make sense. I thrive on constructive criticism. Oh, and if you liked it, let me know about that too. I heart reviews of all shapes and forms, so, in other words, REVIEW! Or else...or not really because I don't have anything to back that threat up with. But, I will do my best to respond to each and every person who leaves a review.**

**Questions for you to ponder and respond to: Was it worth the wait? Should I have left this chapter on the back burner? Does every confrontation on Cheaters end in a fist-fight? What do you think my favorite part of this chapter was? Have you been reading VS8? Was there any part of this chapter that you loved? Any that you hated? Did you miss me? Do you think Lost rocks this season? Seen any good movies lately. Do you think that using the word "shish-kabob" in everyday conversation will catch on? **

**Coming up in the next chapter, if you would like me to continue--Chapter 2-The Divorce: Lorelai was acting strange and Kirk was eating his peas one at a time and both things are baffling Luke. He also has an important envelope upstairs that he can't stop thinking about. And a late-night phone call shakes things up for everyone. **


	3. Chapter 2: The Divorcé

**A/N: Step back! I updated in a timely manner. Are you all proud? **

**So, here's the thing (whoa, I just quoted myself. Scroll down a little bit and you can see.): If you were hoping for this chapter to be, shall we say, action packed, it's not. I mean, it's a necessary chapter, but not full of the action that you might be expecting based on the title. I've taken off the M rating for now, just because what I have down so far doesn't exactly warrent the rating. But, in the coming chapters, it will go back to M. So you kids under a certain age, don't get too attached to this story. The M rating will be there for a reason and I defintiely don't want hate emails from your parents about why I would put this stuff out there for children to read. That would defintely suck.**

**But, although this chapter is extremely short for my standards, it is also the last chapter of set up (and there was much rejoicing!). I hope you all enjoy it and will continue on with this story. It's going to be an interesting ride, that's for sure (dirty). **

**Eveyone, wave to Filo. She is awesome in all her infinite wisdom. She is also the boss of me, so if you like this chapter, you must send her cake. According to her, this is not optional. It is a command. **

**Thank you all for your enthusiastic reviews. I appreciate each and every one of them. I know I didn't get around to responding to all of them, since real life got in the way, and for that I apologize. I thought about it a lot, but I didn't want to send one out now, where you would be like, "what the heck is this crazy person rambling on about?" I'll be better at responding this time around (especially to LLFreak, who I've been meaning to send a massive PM to for ages. I'm sorry! Please forgive me!)**

**There. I've rambled long enough. I bet you're ready to dive right in. Ok, have fun!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Divorcé**

So, here's the thing:

He, Luke Danes, was 39 years old. 40, the age that once seemed too far off to worry about, was now only a birthday away. A month away, to be exact. God, he felt old.

He lived alone. He tried to remind himself that he liked living alone, but alone was still…alone. He was reclusive and gruff and didn't make friends easily, so that didn't exactly help with the whole "alone" situation. He knew he didn't exactly radiate sunshine and flowers, so he understood why people were so wary of him.

He owned his own business (that was a plus), and perhaps if he liked people better, running a diner would seem like an ideal career. But, when there were people in this world like Kirk…well, the diner dream wasn't as ideal as one might think.

Kirk, that irritating specimen of a man, was still sitting out the counter, sorting vivid green peas with the tines of the fork. Stabbing them one at a time before he slowly brought the fork to his mouth. He chewed methodically, grinding his molars together in an irritating gnashing cacophony. Luke gripped the lip of counter in front of him with one hand, his knuckles white from restraining that hand from knocking Kirk upside the head. With his other hand, Luke was attempting to do some paperwork. Unfortunately, since Kirk walked in the door, he had been staring at the same figure for the last hour.

_Damn Kirk._

"There's something wrong with these peas," Kirk said, studying the remaining ones on his plate intently as he pushed them around with his fork.

"There's nothing wrong with your peas, Kirk," Luke muttered impatiently, and his hand tightened its hold on the counter.

"They have a strange aftertaste. Where were they grown? They taste South American."

"I have no idea, Kirk," he said with a groan. Luke propped both elbows on the table and put his head in his hands, slightly pushing his hat up with his fingers.

"I think they are Peruvian," Kirk continued, smacking his lips thoughtfully. "Or maybe Bolivian. But, then again, Bolivian peas tend to be more zesty-"

Luke rolled his eyes. "You want me to get the can for you."

"They could be Argentinean. Maybe that's what I taste."

"I'll tell you what, Kirk," Luke stated, jerking his head up from his position in exasperation. He walked away from the counter and into storeroom. He returned, moments later with his arms full of cans. "I am going to give you these cans, free of charge. Then," he continued, handing over can after can to Kirk's tentatively outstretched hand. "You are going home, with the peas. Tomorrow, you can let me know what South American country these peas taste like. How does that sound?"

"But, I haven't finished these peas yet," Kirk said, looking down at his plate sorrowfully.

"You have an armful of peas. Go crazy."

"But-"

"Get the hell out of my diner, Kirk!" Luke gruffed angrily.

Kirk jumped off the stool quickly, dropping cans in his haste.

"Here," Luke continued, walking around the counter. "I'll even help you." He picked up the remaining cans of the floor and ushered Kirk to the door with a firm grip on his shoulder. He gave the scrawny man a slight push out the door and Kirk stumbled as he attempted to hold on to all his cans. "Here you go," Luke said as he placed the cans back into Kirk's arms. "Here you go, and here you go. Now, have a nice night." And, with that, Luke slammed the door, the glass pane wobbling in protest. He violently flipped the sign to 'Closed' and turned away from the shell-shocked Kirk outside.

When he came back out into the diner with a mop and a bucket, Kirk was still outside the diner, nose pressed to the glass.

"What?" he questioned, irritated.

"I forgot my wallet."

"Get it tomorrow," Luke countered as he dunked the mop into the bucket with a splash.

"What if I need it?"

"What would you need it for?"

Kirk paused, his brow furrowed as he attempted to come up with an answer.

"Time's up. Come back tomorrow."

"Ok," Kirk said weakly as he walked away.

Luke pushed the mop across the floor and sighed. It had been a long day.

* * *

Luke never considered himself a man of many regrets. He didn't believe in them. He didn't see a purpose for them. He remembered that his dad's philosophy had always been to forgive, forget, and move forward. Or did he say forgive, forget, and move on? Yeah, that was it.

But, Luke was also stubborn, and had a tendency to dig his heels into the ground, holding onto things longer than he should have. Anger. Hurt. Attraction. Frustration. Love. Jeez, how many years had he spent pining for Rachel? How long did it take for him to forgive his father and mother for dying? Hell, he even spent an entire summer not talking to Lorelai after their stupid fight about Jess and Rory when he had actually forgiven her long before that. Maybe his inclination to be hard-headed conflicted with the part of him that wanted to live by his father's wise adage. He did try not to hold on. He really did. It would be better in the long run if he could follow that saying to a tee.

No, he didn't want to have regrets. Sure, there were things he wished he had done differently. Actions he wished he would have taken. Things he wish he would have said, or things he wished he had said differently.

Then again, hindsight is what it is. If he could go back in time, to the age of seven, to be exact, Luke would have let his mother hug and kiss him more often, instead of complaining with "aw jeez, Mom," since he now knew that she would only live one more year after that. He definitely would have avoided having sex with Katie Howard in the cab of his truck after a high school football game had he known that the sheriff was patrolling the area. Sometimes he wishes he had finished college after his dad died. Maybe he should have let Liz screw up more often, instead of always being there to pick up the pieces. He shouldn't have proposed to Rachel after that first year together. That was a big mistake. Only took her two weeks to run the hell out of his life after he did. He probably shouldn't have taken Rachel back all those times after that either. Had he known that he would fail with Jess, he would have never let him get on that bus to Stars Hollow. When it came to Lorelai, maybe he should have…perhaps he could have…

No. Luke wasn't sure he would change anything there. His relationship with Lorelai was good. It always had been. Sure, there was that small part of him that wished he would've at least worked up the nerve to ask her out once. He thinks it could've been a good thing, that they might've been good together. But, he never was convinced that she felt the same way, so it was much better that he didn't.

This time, however, it was proving to me more difficult to move on. There were constant reminders of what had just taken place everywhere. The matching luggage set sitting in Jess' old closet. A collection of hardly used tropical shirts in a garbage sack bound for the town rummage sale. Tan lines. A pair of sandals. A gold band buried in his nightstand drawer. Lawyers. All the details of that trip that Lorelai had managed to drag out of him.

And now, a thick envelope on his kitchen table upstairs. Sitting there. Mocking him. Reminding him.

The taunting envelope had dictated the rhythm of his entire day. As he rubbed the counter clean, Luke could hear it calling from upstairs. As he flipped burgers, he could hear it chanting in the hiss of the grill.

_You are divorced. You are divorced. You are divorced. You are divorced._

He had been irritable all day Nothing entirely new there, but there was a bit more bite in his usual bark. Kirk was the only one who seemed oblivious to Luke's sour mood. Well, Kirk and Lorelai. She had been acting weird that morning. Something was off. And to top it all off, Caesar had called in sick and Lane wasn't able to come in until after her classes were over for the day.

_divorced divorced divorced divorced divorced_

When he was pulling double duty in the kitchen, all he could think about was the envelope. When he kneaded the dough for the dinner rolls, the only thing on his mind was the sympathetic expression of the courier who had handed the envelope to him that morning, knowing very well what it contained. Every time he pressed his hands into the dough, the word "divorce" resonated in his mind. When he later burned those rolls, all he could focus on was the fact the he was a complete and utter failure at even the most simple things.

When Lorelai practically bolted out the door for whatever reason, he spent seven hours mulling over the fact perhaps she had suddenly picked up on what a terrible guy he was. Not that he blamed her. He, Luke Danes, the man who took a week to decide on a new flannel shirt, got drunk and got married on a cruise. On a fucking cruise! Who even did that? That didn't exactly illuminate his great decision-making skills. And then, after he got himself into that mess, he couldn't even hold it together long enough to make the marriage work. He divorced her. He got a divorce. If he was unattractive to Lorelai before, he could only imagine what she thought of him now.

When Taylor came in to yell at him about the grime on his side of the new window, the only thing that Luke could hear coming out of his mouth was a reprimand about the perils of divorce in today's society. When he cleaned up the mess left behind by Hurricane Lorelai, he could've sworn he saw the words "failure," "disappointment," and "letdown" scribbled in the margins of her notes. When Babette asked for a cup of coffee, he immediately told her that he didn't want to talk about it. When he caught sight of her confused expression, he realized that she had not asked him how the divorce was going.

Like he said, it had been a long, stressful day. Eventually, he was going to have to go upstairs and face that envelope and every implication that came with it like a man. But, as for right now, he figured it would be all right if he stayed downstairs a little longer.

It had been awhile since he refilled the ketchup bottles.

Luke trudged up the stairs slowly, feeling the stress of the day weighing on him as he took each step. A part of him couldn't wait to kick back with a beer and drink the night away, but then again, another part of him did not relish the fact that he had to be in the same room with the item he had been attempting to ignore all day. He got to the door and pushed it open, flipping the light switch as he walked into the dark room. He immediately made his way to the fridge, this being his tradition since the divorce proceedings had started. The tawny beer bottles sat in a neat row on one of the shelves of the door and Luke picked up the one closest to him. He expertly twisted off the cap and took a long, slow sip of the drink, allowing the flavor to awaken his senses.

On his way to the living room, he noticed the red light blinking on his answering machine, signaling that he had messages waiting for him. He pressed the 'play' button warily, not especially looking forward to who could be calling him.

"_Mr. Danes, Bill Norrix calling from Smitt Livingston & Norrix. Just calling to see if you got the final pap-_"

Luke got a lot of pleasure from pressing that 'delete' button. It was the one thing that was going right with his day. He took another of drink of beer as the timestamp played for the next message.

"_Hi Luke, it's Nicole_." It was certainly the last voice he expected to hear on his machine that night, and his first instinct was to delete the message immediately. But, Luke had to admit that he was curious, so he let the message play.

"_I guess I'm officially your ex now_." she laughed nervously, and Luke felt himself tense. "_God, probably a little too early to be joking around about that. Sorry... I, uh…I just wanted to make sure that you got the final papers. Everything appears to be squared away, so you won't have to deal with the partners from my firm anymore. I know you probably hated that..._"

Luke's finger hovered over the 'delete' button. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of it. But, it was the first time she had sought him out since the divorce began, and perhaps he owed it to her to hear her out. He sighed, and brought the bottle to his lips again, allowing his hand fall away from the answering machine.

"_The men at my firm have always been a little protective of me, and they didn't exactly think highly of you since you wanted to divorce me. But, I did make sure everything was fair. That it was quick and painless, I guess…" _She paused, and Luke heard her take a few quick breaths, as if to compose herself. It was unusual for him to see her in an awkward position. Then again, had he really known her well enough to be the judge of her moods? That should've been the first clue that this marriage wasn't going to work out.

"_I'm sorry for the way I handled things after the cruise. I think we both know that what we did was a mistake, but I shut you out after everything was said and done, and that wasn't right. A part of me wishes that we had sat down and discussed everything that happened like rational adults…I don't know. I suppose I wasn't feeling very rational on that trip…But, hey, hindsight, right?"_

Luke snorted as he thought back to his mental debate about hindsight from earlier that night.

"_I'm not exactly sure why I called_, she continued, her voice now sounding wistful. "_In fact, I'm glad you didn't pick up. It's much easier to get everything out this way…I guess I'm looking for some closure. Finding the final papers of my desk this morning wasn't enough…I'll be up late tonight, if you want to talk. Just in case you need some closure too. If not…Well, I guess we'll see each other around. Bye, Luke._"

He sighed, staring at the phone longer than he thought he should have. He had to admit that it was tempting offer. He wasn't exactly pleased with the way he had handled things either and perhaps by calling her they could end this sham of a marriage on a high note. But, then again, there wasn't much more he wanted to say to her. He already told the lawyers from her firm exactly what he wanted from this divorce; nothing. He pressed 'delete' on the machine and walked away.

The envelope still took up residence at the center of his table and sat down in one of the chairs and slid it toward him. For the first time that day, he unlatched the metal clasps that secured the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. Within the deep sea of legalese on the first page, he managed to make out Nicole's name and his own name and the word "divorcement." Luke figured that was enough. Everything seemed to be in order, and, as far as he was concerned, the whole damn thing was over.

He irreverently stuffed the papers back into the envelope and took a swig of his beer, draining the remaining contents in one gulp. Luke slowly got up from the table, and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. On his way to the couch, he crammed the envelope into the bottom drawer of his desk. The papers would eventually be forgotten that way and all Luke truly wanted at the moment was to forget.

He sank onto the couch and twisted the cap off his second beer of the night. Flipping on the television, he succumbed to a night of drinking and mindless entertainment until it was time for him to go to sleep.

* * *

His dreams were scattered. There was no rhyme or reason to any of the images that flashed in his head. But the one thing that was clear to him in his jumbled mind was a distant buzzing that was threatening to push him out of the solace of sleep. No wait, not a buzzing. A ringing. Yes, that was the sound. Something was ringing. He couldn't exactly process what was ringing. It didn't sound like his alarm clock. It didn't exactly feel like the time he normally woke up either. Deep down, he knew he would have to wake up to figure out where the ringing was coming from, but he was stubborn, longing for a few more minutes of sleep.

The ringing continued and he groaned. He was officially awake now. _Damn. _Luke blinked, attempting to clear the drowsiness (and perhaps some of the drunkenness) from his eyes. He sat up slowly, letting his feet drop over the edge of the bed as he ran his fingers through his hair. The thing, whatever it was, rang again. He stretched and looked at the clock. It was 12:45, so the sound definitely wasn't his alarm clock.

It rang again, and with sudden recognition, Luke turned to his right and made out the shape of his phone on the other nightstand in the dark. That's what it was. He rolled his eyes at the audacity at someone calling him this late at night. He lay back onto the bed and rolled over to the phone. It rang again. He blindly groped for the receiver. It rang again. When his hand made contact with the receiver, he quickly snatched it up.

"Hello?" came his questioning voice, scratchy and hoarse from sleep.

"Hi, it's me," said the voice on the other line. Luke attempted to place the familiar voice, but his grogginess inhibited this process. He didn't say anything and the woman on the other line paused as well. After a few excruciating moments of silence, he heard the voice take a deep breath and say, "Um, can you come over?"

And then Luke knew exactly who it was.

**A/N: Well, who was it? Sound off on your guesses in the review. I think I have my list of guesses narrowed down to Nicole, Lorelai, Miss Patty, Gypsy, and Mrs. Slutsky (hey, you never know. I might throw a curve ball your way). And while you are rattling off your guesses for who's on the phone, why don't you tell me what you liked about this chapter. Or what you didn't like about this chapter. I'll take jokes and amusing ancedotes in the review as well. I'm in the middle of finals and I could use some entertainment. **

**Next chapter: Well, I'm not going to say much, but I will tell you that it's called "The Innuendo" and that you may find out who called Luke in the middle of the night and why Mrs. Slutsk- I mean, that person- needs Luke to come over. Infer from that what you will. **


End file.
